


Of Blizzards, Coffee, and Jackets

by chasing_the_sterek



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Coffee, Coffee Shop, Cold, Identity Reveal, Jacket sharing, M/M, Not an AU he's just a teacher, Sass, Sassy Peter, Snow, Teacher Peter, Wade's Jacket, anyway, grumpy Peter, i mean peter has to give it back at some point, it's barely mentioned tbh, right???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasing_the_sterek/pseuds/chasing_the_sterek
Summary: Peter didn't expect agreeing to borrow Deadpool's jacket would lead to his secret identity being found out. Although maybe he should've considered the repercussionsbeforehe wore it outside. In civilian clothes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Peter doesn't know Deadpool's name is Wade Wilson in this fic, which is why he constantly refers to him as Deadpool. Don't ask why. I don't know.
> 
> I go back to school tomorrow. I have a shit-ton of homework. I should be doing literally anything but this. I'm not even in this fandom at the moment. I should be updating something else.
> 
> And yet here I am.
> 
> Be grateful, brats.

It's freezing.

It's January.

It's actually _snowing._

And yet Peter is outside, in a thin superhero suit and nothing else, swinging around the city looking for (probably non-existent) bad guys.

Like a complete moron.

Peter decides that he needs to regain at least a little body temperature before he continues to move that fast through the biting wind, and lands on a rooftop, shivering. He hunkers down underneath a water butt, where there's a little less snow on the ground, and rubs his arms for a couple of futile minutes before rolling his mask up to his nose and blowing on his hands.

It warms them better than it would through the mask - a lot better, actually, since the mask just absorbs the heat itself and leaves nothing for his hands - but it has the unfortunate side effect of making his lower face feel like it's more related to the Antarctic than Aunt May.

"You look cold," a voice says cheerily. Peter looks up to see Deadpool, one hand on the water butt. . . thing (is it even called a water butt?) as he ducks down to smile through his mask at him.

"There's a reason for that," Peter mutters. "It starts with _b_ and ends in _ecause it's minus three thousand degrees out and snowing, and I may have a healing ability but it doesn't generate enough warmth to make up for it."_

"That's a bit of a mouthful," Deadpool comments, deciding to join Peter under the water butt. The wind howls around them, and Peter returns his gaze to their surroundings when it becomes obvious that Deadpool is just content to sit there. (Fuck him and his warm-looking green mercenary jacket.)

The wind howls again as he turns his head more towards the light, and the water butt creaks ominously. Peter sighs heavily onto his hands and wonders if he should leave just in case, or if he should for once trust in Queens' water-butt-building skills.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Deadpool do such a huge double-take it makes Peter jump out of his skin. He shoots a wide-eyed look the older man's way, even though he can't see it, and is just opening his mouth to ask what alarmed him when -

"Your lips are fucking _blue,_ Spidey!" Deadpool shrieks, pointing wildly. "How long have you been _out_ here?"

Peter grimaces at the accusation and yanks his mask down again like it'll help abort the conversation. "I dunno. What time is it?"

Deadpool repeats the question under his breath incredulously, and sourly moves the sleeve of his suit aside so he can read off of the Adventure Time watch. "Six-fifteen in the morning. Just gettin' light."

"Mmm." Peter hums. He quickly does the maths in his head. "I've been out since ten yesterday evening, so eight hours and a quarter, I guess?"

Deadpool makes a high-pitched, alarmed noise, then another one when Peter shrugs and goes to do another patrol. "Where are you going?"

"Gonna patrol again. Why?"

 _"Your lips are blue._ You can't patrol!"

Peter glares. "Watch me, asshole," he hisses, and pads to the roof. He's stronger than Deadpool, and he's pretty sure he's faster - he can get away if the man gives chase. If not, then Peter gets to preserve energy. Win-win, right?

He hears a loud sigh, then a weird rustle and footsteps.

Peter keeps walking. He doesn't turn around.

"At least take my jacket," Deadpool says from behind him, and if not for his enhanced reflexes Peter might have actually tripped over his own feet in surprise.

He whirls around to stare at Deadpool. _"What?"_

Deadpool looks away, at the Empire State Building in the distance, but he wiggles the jacket in his hand insistently. "Take it."

Peter stretches a hand out hesitantly, sinks his fingers into the fabric, then takes it quickly, ignoring the way Deadpool's head snaps around in surprise. It's still warm from where Deadpool was wearing it (Jesus, how hot does that guy run?), so he pulls it on as fast as possible and hugs it tighter to himself.

There's a snort of laughter, and when he looks up Deadpool's lowering his phone with a grin Peter can see through the mask.

"Shut up," Peter says eloquently.

Deadpool laughs outright, suit crinkling around his eyes, and salutes him. "You got it, jacket monster."

"Ugh," Peter says, and jumps off the roof.

\--

Three days later, the light (ish) snowfall has transformed into what's nearly a blizzard, and Peter's hurrying through the street in civvies, heading for a coffeeshop he likes that's further away from where he lives but serves better coffee for a cheaper price and is generally much quieter.

None of his coats were warm enough - he is but a lowly teacher, after all, it's not like he can afford an adequate one - so Peter's chosen to half-drown in Deadpool's Coat Of Endless Warmth for today.

He stuff his hands in the pockets as he pushes the door open, sinking his face into the gap between the zip and his neck. His fingers are met with three errant bullet shells in one and the hard ridges of knives sewed into the seams of each, and abruptly realises he might have left his wallet back in his flat.

Peter scowls even as he shuffles forwards in line. "Shit," he mutters, but luckily he finds it in the back pocket of his jeans and relaxes, heartbeat returning to somewhere vaguely resembling normal.

Brief panic over, he cranes his neck to have a quick look at the specials. _TODAY ONLY!_ The chalkboard read. _TRIPLE ESPRESSO PUMPKIN SPICE!_

Peter shrugs. Three espresso shots sounded nice, and he hadn't had his mind on anything anyway, so he asks for that when his turn comes then shuffles off to one side, eyes to the floor as he fiddles with the inside of Deadpool's pocket, looking for how you'd get the knife out without having to use said knife to cut the lining.

"Parker?" is called, and he steps forwards to grab his coffee then claims a small booth.

His phone goes off as he raises the cup to his mouth, playing the Nyan Cat theme tune, and Peter spares a moment to roll his eyes at the ceiling and sigh heavily as he shifts in his seat to grab his phone.

"Hello?" He says, taking a long gulp of coffee.

 _"I can't believe your ringtone for me is the Nyan Cat theme tune,"_ Deadpool says.

Peter promptly spits his coffee all over the table. And drops the cup.

One person's laughter fills the coffee shop, although most didn't notice, bar a few people who're sending him curious, sympathetic and amused looks in different variations. A waitress comes over to clean it up.

"I am so sorry," Peter says. "Here, I'll clean it up, it's practically rush hour here. Sorry. I'll - uh - I'll just -"

"I'll get you another one," she says, and he smiles at her in apology as she leaves the napkins with him, wincing slightly at the amusement in her eyes and the smile on her lips.

Deadpool's still laughing into the phone, although it's quietened to more of a snicker, as has the laughter he heard a second ago. Certain they were both Wade, Peter eyes everyone in the coffee shop with narrowed eyes, looking for him.

 _"Left,"_ Deadpool says helpfully between giggles. Peter's now 90% sure he's moving around, or at least hiding. _"No, your other left."_

"Just get over here," Peter hisses, and hangs up.

He mops up the rest of the spilt coffee with renewed vigour, then scrunches up the napkins into one huge ball and leans around the booth to chuck it over to the bin on the other side of the counter.

"Good shot," a voice says as it bounces off the wall and lands inside perfectly.

Peter turns, and there Deadpool is, eyes seeming to glitter with mirth even under his baseball cap and hood.

Peter glowers at him. "Why are you here," he asks, but it sounds more like a grumpy statement than a question.

Deadpool shrugs, still smiling. He sits across from Peter in the booth. "I _was_ actually here for an innocent coffee. Didn't expect to run into you."

"How did you even know it was me?"

Deadpool gives him a flat look.

Peter glances down at the green jacket he's still wearing. "Oh."

There's a snort from across the table. "Better drink your coffee, Parker. Apparently you don't function properly without it."

Peter frowns. "I don't have a -" he starts to say, but he trails off when he hears footsteps. Enhanced hearing doesn't help much when you're in a loud area, and he hadn't been listening for the maid's footsteps. "For fuck's sake."

Deadpool _snickers._

He huffs, thanking the waitress. "You saw her coming," he accuses.

"Sure did," Deadpool agrees. He watches Peter inhale half of his large cup in one go, glaring at a spot on the table the whole time. Peter's glad he waits until the cup is on the table again to say, "So why _is_ my ringtone Nyan Cat?"

Peter half-shrugs. "You hummed it under your breath once, when we were on a mission. I don't think you even realized you were doing it. A week afterwards we exchanged numbers and I was looking for a ringtone for you, and, well, the rest is history."

The merc looks like he got caught off-guard. Like he'd been expecting Peter to say _it's annoying, like you_ or something and explained it that way.

"Huh," Deadpool says absently.

Peter hums, downing the rest of his coffee. His phone goes off again - a generic ringtone, the most boring he could find - and he grumbles a complaint as he answers.

"Hello?" Peter says.

 _"Peter Parker!"_ his boss hollers. _"Why aren't you in today?"_

Peter glances out of the window. It's still snowing. "Because you called in a snow day, sir."

_"Did you not get my email?"_

"I didn't, no." Peter answers, giving the air a irritated look as he mumbles "Did you even send it?"

 _"What was that?"_ his boss demands.

"I said I'll check I got it, sir," Peter says more loudly.

Deadpool snorts. Peter rolls his eyes at him with an agreeing smile.

_"You better, Parker. God knows you slack off enough as it is."_

"I'll attempt to make an improvement," Peter deadpans.

_"Is that sarcasm I detect, Parker?"_

Peter rolls his eyes.

"No, sir." He says sweetly. "Definitely not. When have you ever known me to be sarcastic?"

Deadpool's visibly trying not to laugh. Peter's grateful he's not doing it outright.

There's a grumble from the other end of the line. _"Hmm. Get your arse back to school, stat, Mr Parker. Don't be late."_

"You suck," Peter mutters.

_"What was that?"_

"I said good luck," Peter answers, raising his voice again. "I know it's difficult, trying to get everyone to answer their phones."

His boss grunts again and hangs up abruptly.

"Bye, then," Peter huffs, removing his phone from his ear and raising an eyebrow at it.

Deadpool grins at him. "I don't know what I want to focus on," he admits. "Your boss, your job, the sass. . ."

Peter rolls his eyes good-naturedly at him. "Looks like I'm going to have to leave you alone with that dilemma, buddy. I have to go back to school and do some weird-ass training I already know."

"You're a teacher?"

Peter shrugs. "English. Shakespeare and how word choices influence your writing. Shit like that."

"Which school?" Deadpool asks. He sounds kind of hesitant, like he's not 100% sure he's allowed to probe.

Peter shoots a grin over his shoulder as he moves towards the door. "Guess you'll find out if you walk me there, won't you?"

Deadpool laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come visit my tumblr, peasants.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/total-master-of-geekiness)


End file.
